He opened the truck door. “You’re a good driver, and apparently stepping out into the unknown is one of your skills.”
He paused, searching the different areas of the farm. The dogs weren’t in sight and weren’t barking. Jacob strode toward the house. Iva followed, appreciating his sentiments. After spending a little time around the King family, she felt like a new person—one who could dare to dream and believe it’d be okay to pursue parts of those dreams.
Jacob entered the kitchen. “Hey.”
Steven sat at the table, coloring on a book with his son. “Hallo. Welcome back, you two.”
Of all the people on this farm, Steven was the hardest to read. He looked perturbed with Jacob, but was he?
Jacob looked through the window that faced the orchard. “Where is everybody?”
Steven took a crayon from his son. “Phoebe is resting with Arie. Leah’s out with Landon because she’s in her rumschpringe and has that right. My sister is at Camilla’s, because that’s where she lives.”
There it was—a hint of accusation wrapped inside an honest answer.
Steven set the crayon down. “And Samuel is at Camilla’s because Bob came by about an hour ago and asked him to join them there.”
Jacob frowned. “Why?”
“Camilla was injured in a car accident on Friday, and Samuel and Rhoda were the ones to call for help. I think Camilla wanted to see both of them to say thank you.”
When Jacob’s eyes met Iva’s, she saw frustration and maybe distress.
Iva jingled the keys. “I need to get the truck back to Landon. Would you like for me to drop you off over there?”
“That’d be nice. Thanks.”
Steven studied her. “Perhaps if everything has been handled in the Englisch world for now, you’d like to change first and address your hair.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her outfit. It was an A-line dress with tiny flowers, and the short sleeves were covered with a jacket. It seemed quite modest to her, but apparently Steven found it unacceptable. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, which she believed kept her from appearing Amish while helping Sandra move. “Right away.”
She scurried up the stairs, and in less than two minutes, she was in an Amish dress. Since the apron needed straight pins to put it in place, she simply slid a coat over her dress, hoping Steven wouldn’t notice. While winding her hair into an Amish bun, she hurried down the stairs, her prayer Kapp between her lips.
When she didn’t spot Jacob, she went outside. He was leaning against the truck. Despite his laid-back posture, she noticed the irritated glint in his eyes.
“Sorry.” She put on her prayer Kapp, hoping it’d stay in place until she had time to pin it.
“You’re fine.” He climbed into the truck.
She turned the key. “I tried to hurry.”
He said nothing.
She tried to think of something to say. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I worked out a plan with Sandra so you two can keep in touch. She’ll write to the farm but not put her name or address on the envelope. Since I pick up the mail, I’ll get rid of the envelope before passing you the letter. Then you won’t know where she is … until you’ve finished testifying. We got her a new phone so you can’t reach her that way, but I can call her and relay whatever you need. It’s a little convoluted, but it won’t matter after the trials.”
“Thanks, Iva. I appreciate it.” His tone sounded empty. “What are the chances of some misfortune happening every time I go out of town?”
“Life’s busy. Always something going on. So I’d say it depends on how often and for how long you’re gone.”
He propped his elbow on the truck door and sighed, staring into the distance. “I have to get Rhodes away from here.”
“Away from the farm?”
He blinked, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“I won’t say anything, but I bet Rhoda would have an opinion. Isn’t she like half of the heart of the orchard?”
“Half.” He mumbled, rubbing his forehead.
Iva slowed at an intersection. “Which way?”
“Left. When we come to the next intersection, you can let me out, and I’ll walk from there. If you go right after about two miles, you’ll know where you are and can easily find your way to Landon’s.”
“You sure? I don’t mind taking you all the way to the Cranfords’.”
“There are a lot of twists and turns after that, and I’m afraid you’d get mixed up trying to get from there to Landon’s. It’ll be hard for him to take you back to the farm if you can’t get to his place.”
“True.” She suppressed a yawn. “If you took Rhoda away, wouldn’t you miss the farm like she would?”
“I don’t think so. I never really wanted to spend my days working in an orchard. I was fourteen when I moved to Lancaster to apprentice as a carpenter with my uncle. My dream was to start my own business one day. That desire is part of why I left to work for other construction companies. I wanted to learn all there was. That passion consumed me. But then I hit that troubled spot and had to return home. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve made my peace with it. Then Rhoda stepped onto the farm, and life became more than I knew was possible.”
“So if you were without family obligations, what would you do?”
He released a whispery scoff. “Something I was too broken to do before meeting Rhoda—carpentry work.” He sighed.
Seeing how Jacob loved Rhoda only made Iva want to find someone who would love her in the same way. “Couldn’t you start a carpentry business here?”
“Maybe.”
“But that’d defeat your desire to move elsewhere with Rhoda.” Who could blame him? Rhoda and Samuel were constantly together, and she could only guess that’s what had him so upset right now.
“Something like that. Thanks to my brilliant plans, the Kings now own two orchards, one here and one in Pennsylvania. There are only three King sons, and I’m the one who convinced Samuel and Rhoda to establish this one. How can I abandon that?”
Her interest peaked. “You have another brother?”
Jacob turned, staring at her.
“Don’t get quiet on me now.” She grinned. “Is he committed to someone or drowning in grief for a lost love?”
“Not that I know of. He’s nineteen.”
She’d be twenty-two in another two months. With the intersection coming up, she pulled to the side of the road. “Hmm. I’d be considered an older woman, but I could live with that if he could.” She laughed, teasing. “No! I’ve got it. Why don’t you swap places with him? You and Rhoda go there. He comes here. Forget the canning business for the Maine orchard. I want to meet a King who’s not committed to or grieving over someone.”
Jacob studied her. “You know”—he opened the truck door—“that’s not a completely bad idea. We can’t afford to forget the canning business, but does that mean Rhoda has to live here the other nine months of the year? Maybe in a few years, Leah could head up this canning operation.” He got out, looking in at her. “Thanks, Iva. For everything.”
“You be sure to tell Rhoda and Samuel I’m a vital part of this business.” She pointed at him. “Do not let them send me back to Indiana.”
“I won’t.”
While she watched Jacob walk down the road, Iva wondered if that third King brother was anything like Samuel and Jacob—capable of caring deeply and believing women were as valuable as men.
If so, she’d certainly like to meet him.
TWENTY-SIX
Snippets of images hounded Rhoda as friendly chitchat went around the room. From her place on the couch next to Samuel, she tried to stay tuned in, but it seemed impossible.
In her mind’s eye Rhoda imagined Camilla as a young mom.
Tell them.
This time the phrase tell them was her own voice, simply nudging her to speak up. When she’d first heard the words, it’d been terrifying. The voice had been very strange—a young man’s
voice one moment, a child’s the next. It’d happened during Rhoda’s first night at the farm. Only Leah, Phoebe, and the children were with her. She awoke between three and four in the morning.
Jacob had been with Sandra. Landon was still driving up to the farm and pulling a trailer. Samuel was with him. Steven was on a train with the livestock.
The stress of the move had been unbearable, and she’d thought her mind was playing tricks on her.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Rhoda.”
She blinked, turning on the love seat to face him.
He angled his head for a moment and chuckled. “I think she’s speechless.”
But she knew he was covering for her, aware she’d heard nothing.
“Your offer to build Rhoda a canning kitchen on the farm is extraordinary, but …” He let the sentence dangle, waiting on her.
“Oh.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard that. “No. We couldn’t let you do that. You’re wonderful friends, but that is too much. Way, way too much.”
Bob sat in a ladder-back chair next to Camilla’s recliner and held her hand. They’d put a love seat on the other side of her, up close, and had insisted Rhoda and Samuel share it.
Camilla frowned, looking more frustrated than hurt. “You’re not listening, are you? Where is your mind tonight—with that beau of yours?”
“Easy, Camilla. They’ve had a rough few nights too.” Bob picked up a glass of water and passed it to his wife.
Rhoda straightened. “No, I’m not thinking about Jacob at all.” Should she tell Camilla where her thoughts were?
Bob took some papers out of a drawer. “Our money is making nothing right now. It’s just sitting in a bank.” He passed the papers to Samuel. “Those are plats of your land, and I’ve marked several areas where a kitchen could be built, spots where you could easily get a building permit. You’d have to avoid being too close to the farmhouse, the creek, and the road. Other than that, there are several good sites on the fifteen acres that aren’t being used for the orchard, house, barn, driveways, or greenhouses.”
Samuel unfolded a two-foot-by-three-foot piece of paper. “How is it you have this layout of our property?”
“Camilla and I have been discussing this since Rhoda received the news that the farmhouse can’t serve as a canning kitchen. Rhoda hasn’t found anything close by that can be rented or renovated to meet your needs. Camilla did some checking, and she didn’t find anything either. A few weeks back I was at the courthouse to renew my car tags, so I went by the tax assessor’s office and got someone to help me pull the plat for your property.”
Samuel studied it.
Rhoda placed her hand in the middle of the plat, breaking Samuel’s view. “It’s very good of them, isn’t it?”
Samuel nodded. “Very.”
Rhoda turned to Camilla. “But we can’t.”
Camilla handed her glass back to Bob. “Is it because the Amish can’t strike a business deal with us?”
Samuel shook his head. “No. We can in some cases. Since Steven knows the situation and he’s our church leader, that could help a lot.”
Rhoda wanted to pinch Samuel, but she settled for giving him a stern look. “I don’t agree with this and would appreciate you backing me up, not them.”
The serious lines on his face said she was asking for an argument in front of Bob and Camilla. What position could he possibly take that she’d agree with? He probably thought that Camilla needed to make this offer out of gratitude and that Kings’ Orchard needed a boost if God chose to give it one. Those points were not enough to accept an unwarranted gift.
Rhoda folded her hands in her lap. “We appreciate the offer.”
“Perhaps”—Samuel leaned in, whispering—“our answer needs to be ‘We’ll think about it.’ ”
“No. I don’t need any time, but thank you.”
Camilla closed her eyes, shaking her head. “If this suggestion is allowable for the Amish, and if Bob invests in small businesses whenever he sees fit, why not?”
“I’m living with you rent free. You invite me to eat with you regularly. I use your kitchen to experiment with recipes. You get up with me in the morning, and we share a meal and coffee. You are very generous to me. But this is too much. Besides …” Rhoda wrestled with whether to mention Camilla did have family. She was almost sure of it. But was her friend up to hearing it?
“Go on.”
Rhoda moved to the edge of the couch. “Let’s talk later. You need to rest.”
“I don’t need rest. I need you to be less stubborn.” Camilla peered around. “Samuel, is she always like this?”
“You have no idea.” He grinned, clearly teasing. Rhoda found nothing amusing. Perhaps she needed rest more than Camilla, but mostly she wanted some support from Samuel, not a fight.
Camilla laughed. “I might understand a little. The first time I woke up in that car, I heard you two yelling at each other. I probably wouldn’t have recognized who it was had it not been for the day you came by to flag the trees. I used to think you and your brother were at fault, but now I’m not so sure.”
Camilla’s words stung. Maybe Rhoda did need to compromise more, regardless of what she personally wanted. She’d work on that, but Camilla’s offer was not the place to start.
Bob adjusted the fleece blanket that had slipped off of Camilla. “Samuel, according to the courthouse records, the property is in your name.”
“Yes, it is. But that was done for a lot of reasons that had to do with getting a loan. Rhoda, her brother, their Daed, and Jacob also invested in the land.”
“Nonetheless, legally you have the final say.”
“True.”
Rhoda’s blood began to warm. “Samuel King,” she mumbled through gritted teeth.
Camilla glanced at Bob, a slight smile of victory on her lips. “Since we’ve narrowed it down that the roadblock is Rhoda, who is just being stubborn, I say the issue is settled.” Camilla pointed at the plat. “Of the places Bob marked, choose your favorite.”
Anger burned through Rhoda, causing her face to prickle. “Camilla, you said I should keep my kitchen separate, perhaps even in my name, and now you’d go around me because the land is in Samuel’s name?” Rhoda took the plat from Samuel and folded it. “And you, Samuel. Didn’t you give me your word before we left Pennsylvania that you’d not go behind my back or around me ever again?”
“You’re right here.” Samuel gestured at the room. “And I haven’t agreed to do anything. We’re talking … or at least trying to.”
Rhoda took a breath. “My answer is no, but thank you.”
Camilla held out her hand, and Rhoda took it. “Child, why?”
The sincerity in Camilla’s voice erased much of Rhoda’s anger. “I’ve explained why.”
“But there’s another reason. There has to be, because saying no is against everything you’ve been searching for. It’s the answer you need. So tell me the real reason.”
Rhoda shook her head. “We’ll talk later … when you’re better.”
“Talk about what?”
“Not now.” Rhoda patted her hand. “Just rest.”
“This is about Jojo, isn’t it?” Camilla asked.
Rhoda stood and moved to the window. “I believe you have a granddaughter.”
“Rhoda, you’re not only stubborn; you’re like a hound with a bone.” Camilla sighed. “You think you know. Trust me, all that’s going on is that you’ve picked up on pieces of information you’ve heard or read or seen in the newspapers or overheard people say. My son was a kid himself when he died. I don’t have a grandchild.”
Rhoda’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She prayed for the right words. “I see snippets at times, as if God is trying to get a message to you. And I know it sounds crazy, but I think you’re wrong.”
“I don’t believe in God. Never have.”
Rhoda had wondered about that. “Still … I saw what I saw.”
“If God exists, I’d
have a few things to say to him. Zachary became religious, and about six months later he was dead. You care to try to explain that?”
“He does exist, and we can’t begin to fathom what He’s like. How could we? People struggle to understand one another, and we’re from the same century, the same country, and we experience many of the same things from attending school to falling in love. And yet really understanding another human being is almost impossible.”
Samuel tapped the folded plat on his knee. “There’s a verse that basically says on this earth all things are in subjection under His feet, but for now we don’t see all things under Him.” Samuel fidgeted with the plat. “To me, what’s being said is we live on a fallen planet, and we don’t yet see it redeemed from all evil.”
Camilla stared at Samuel, looking lost in thought before her face twisted in pain. “My first husband left me for a woman who could bear him children. That’s when I began believing I had no value at all. So I started living with whomever I wanted. At forty-two years old, I came up pregnant. I was terrified, but I thought it was my chance at the American dream—a family. My child’s father was successful at business, but other than that he wasn’t much. Since I believed I was worthless, I signed a prenup that gave me nothing if we divorced. I was just grateful he agreed to marry me.” She searched Bob’s face.
He rested his hand on her head and nodded. “He was the problem, Camilla. Not you. Nobody can make up for what’s missing in a person’s heart.”
She plucked at the fabric on the arm of the recliner. “My son was a tenderhearted boy. So precious. And I loved him with all my heart. For months at a time his dad would be decent. He’d play ball with him and come to his recitals and tennis matches. But then he’d go on a binge, drinking and beating me. My son begged me to leave him. He didn’t understand. We were far from rich, but his dad was a good provider, and I … I thought I’d be useless on my own. I was nearing retirement age. Who was going to hire me? But if I stayed, I could give my son everything he needed—music and tennis lessons, summer camps, and the best schools. When my husband was sober, he’d give sacrificially. If I’d left and he’d paid only child support, we would’ve lived in poverty. I wanted Zachary to have his choice of colleges, but he never got that far. He left home at sixteen, and he hated me for putting him through the emotional turmoil of a loving, hateful dad. He said I’d ruined his life because I cared more about security than peace.” Camilla stared at the wall in front of her. “Funny, but I finally found the courage to leave his dad after that.”
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